Bathing Time
by Neo.Natalie
Summary: John can't find his rubber duck... Sherlock rushes to help.


Bathing Time OR How John Tried to Trick a Detective

John stretched. It had been a long day and he was looking forward to the evening. Living with Sherlock, he usually didn't get the chance to take one of his beloved long hot baths: Either because the detective had stored some of his equipment in the tub or because he would pop in unexpectedly. This evening, however, Sherlock had went on a case while the doctor had stayed at home to do some paper work. After filling the tub with hot water and enough bubbles to fill Buckingham Palace, John decided that he could as well make a day of it. So he turned and went to the kitchen to look for the wine bottle he had stored away in a place he hoped to be safe from Sherlock. Fortunately, the detective seemed to have more interesting things to experiment on than spirits and the bottle was still untouched. John filled a glass and went back to the bathroom, where he shed his clothes and stepped into the hot water - after shutting and locking the door, of course. Stretching out in the tub, he wondered when the last time was he could enjoy such a perfect evening alone at home.

Well, almost perfect. John frowned. Where was his rubber duck? He got it from Sarah, put this wasn't important. What was important, though, was that it helped him to relax. Reminded him of his childhood, probably. His therapist could certainly tell him more about the inner child being let out by playing with a rubber dug in the tub, but John couldn't care less. Where was it? The doctor scanned the bathroom shelves. All the bathroom articles were there: shampoo, soap, razor, shaving foam... but no duck! John's gaze fell on his mobile lying on the floor. A smile spread on his face. Why not act a bit sherlocky tonight?

"Yes", the detective answered after the first ring. "Have you seen my rubber duck?" "John, I'm in the middle of a case!" "I need it, Sherlock, helps me to relax." "Relaxing is boring, come here and help if you got nothing better to do" John's grin widened. "It's not where I put it... I've searched the whole bathroom, but it's not there... So if you haven't taken it, someone must have stolen it. But why steal a rubber duck? That's a bit of a mystery to me." When he had ended, the doctor already knew he had won. Usually, Sherlock never let him talk for so long without interrupting. And John had used the word "mystery".

"Ok, from the beginning. Where have you last seen it?" "It was on the shelf here, right next to the tub... yesterday, I think." "Sherlock!", someone shouted from the background. "Oh, shut up, it was the ex husband, I'll work out the details tomorrow", the detective snapped. John leaned back. Sherlock was at the other end of town right now, until he was home, the doctor would have finished his wine, almost all the bubbles would have gone and the water would be almost cold anyway. Perfect. A rubber duck... he should have done this before!

There was only one little thing wrong in John's equation: he didn't have time to get dressed. "Darn!" he swore when the detective stormed into the bathroom, without knocking, of course. "The door was locked!" "No, it wasn't... given the numerous dangers we are in, I found it safer to replace the key by a not-working replica," the detective explained in an offhand manner. John groaned and tried to hide his nakedness with the remaining foam. The detective looked down on him. "Oh come on, it's nothing I haven't seen before. Now, what about that duck? Yellow, wasn't it? What size." "The regular size." Slowly John was thinking that this hadn't been a good idea at all. "Maybe I just lost it..." "Where would you loose a rubber duck, John?" Sherlock was starting to pace the bathroom. The doctor was starting to get cold. "Look, I'll get dressed, we have a cup of tea and we'll talk about it then."

"Wine!", Sherlock suddenly exclaimed, "What?" "You get the best ideas when slightly drunk! You wouldn't have realized the duck was missing when sober, right? I'll get you a refill!" John sighed. But realizing that Sherlock wouldn't let go of this "case" for a while, he opened the tab again to get at least a bit more hot water in before the detective returned... and he needed more foam, of course.

"All settled?" Sherlock smiled his "on a case and happy with it" smile and handed the doctor a glass, which was full to the brim with wine. "I'm going to get so drunk," John thought. And this was when he had his next brilliant idea. He could get really pissed drunk and watch Sherlock... being Sherlock. The detective had started pacing again. "So you have last seen it here and since yesterday there has always been one of us here, so the thief must have been stealing it from right under our noses... unless!" "Unless what?", John grinned. "It is still here!" "Can't see it..." "Yes, of course not, it's in the tub." "What?" John's eyes became big. No, oh no... His already alcohol-buzzed mind could only think of one thing. "He will find the duck and then the evening will be over... this perfect evening! "Get up!", the detective commanded. "No!", John rejected. "Ok." Was the detective giving in? Sherlock never gave in. The doctor suddenly realized how drunk he was. After a look at his almost empty glass, the knew why. The hot water, the wine, then the warmth had made him thirsty and he had drowned the whole glass in less than five minutes.

Sherlock rolled up his sleeves and stepped towards the tub. "Wait!", John shouted, "what are you doing?" "Getting your rubber duck, of course!", the detective explained calmly. John wanted to protest, but Sherlock was faster. He went on his knees and plunged his arm in the bathwater and started searching for the rubber duck. John's first reaction was to hold the glass high up in the air so it wouldn't get smashed, but when the first thing Sherlock came across was the doctor's leg, the doctor tried to move out of the way and lost his grip on the glass while doing so. Sherlock reacted at lightening speed: He got up from his knees, dived under John's outstretched right arm and caught the glass just in time.

The only thing the detective didn't manage was staying dry while doing so. John couldn't help but laugh at the picture of the famous detective with one of his soaked shirt's sleeves rolled up and a glass in his hand. "You are drunk", Sherlock observed. "And you are wet" John splashed some more water on the detective to prove his point. "Hey, this is a fresh shirt" Sherlock put the glass down on the floor, put his hand in the water and splashed water at John in return. "You are childish, I am already wet", the doctor giggled and leaned forward to return the attack – and right into Sherlock.

"Oops", he laughed. Somehow he couldn't stop giggling. Their faces were very close now – too close, something told him. But his senses were already too much gone. Sherlock took his hand under John's chin and looked him deeply in the eyes. "You are the most amazing man I have ever met, John Watson, do you know that?" And this was when John kissed him. It was not the drunkest kiss the doctor had ever had, but the only drunk kiss he remembered in detail. Those soft lips, slightly parted and tasting like nothing he had ever tasted before. And Sherlock kissed him back! Even drunk as he was, John had not expected that. Maybe being endured, but not rewarded...

"You are drunk", Sherlock said again when they parted. "I will not regret this", the doctor answered. And those were also the last words he spoke before he went to sleep that night. "I will not regret this."


End file.
